Creeping Death
by Fiachra Ochiern
Summary: John runs into something he doesn't expect on a hunt and calls Seth for backup. But Seth is determined to get between John and his sons, not to mention the hints he's been dropping about his past. Second in the Fraternity series.
1. Chapter 1

_Jake Tully_

_Max Miller_

_Ava Wilson_

_Andy Gallagher_

_Anselm Weems_

* * *

John sees a flash of movement down a side street and signals Dean to go around. He's studied a map of the neighborhood enough to know that the one way street has no exits except a drive that goes behind one of the storefronts, some fru-fru boutique. Dean will see it, John's sure. The kid's getting to be a good hunter.

John runs down the street, keeping the figure in front of him and his gun held carefully at his side. Sure enough, the man turns sharply into the drive next to the store to get away from John. John nearly grins as he follows behind the man and sees the imposter frozen at the end of Dean's sawed-off.

"Stay on him, Dean," John says. Shapeshifters usually need a source to change their entire appearance, but they're good imitators regardless, and he doesn't want Dean faltering no matter what he hears.

"I got 'em." Dean glares down the sight of the shotgun pressed into his shoulder.

"Oh, you got me?" The shifter's voice is strangely oily. Deep and distorted in a way John can't really put his finger on.

The shifter looks over his shoulder at John, its mouth pulled into a sly smile that somehow doesn't have any affect on its eyes. Then, the eyes blink, and there's no color. For a brief moment, John think he's just lost the eyes in the dimming sunset, but no, there's no color at all. The man's eyes are completely black.

"Dean, get down!" John yells and trains his gun on the man's back.

Dean drops as John fires, but the man — demon, it's a _demon_ — spins to face John and raises his hand in a claw-like gesture. Something as large as a concrete block punches John right in the chest, and he can feel his feet leave the ground. He lands on his back, and he can't even manage to gasp for air.

Sounds are muffled until John feels a hand on his shoulder. He jerks back immediately, but his head is clearing.

"Dad! It's me."

John blinks hard to erase the stars from his vision and scans the alley-like driveway carefully.

"He got away," Dean says from where he's kneeling on the pavement next to John.

Dean's shaken; John can see it in the way his eyes are wide and every muscle in his body is tense like he's expecting the demon to show up again any moment. John just nods. This is his fault. He was sure the weird man people described seeing around the neighborhood was a case of a shifter coming in and taking over a victim. He didn't recognize the demon until it blinked and showed its damn black eyes.

"We won't find it now." John shrugs off Dean's hand, angry at himself for the mistake. "Let's go."

**o0O0o**

John pushes the door open with his shoulder as Dean practically tumbles in behind him. It hasn't been a very good night.

"Go take a shower." John lays one hand on Dean's back and shoves him gently toward the first floor bathroom.

Dean only makes it two heavy steps before he turns back to John and lifts one arm, burying his face in his armpit dramatically.

"I don't stink that bad," he says with a smile that tries to be cheeky.

"Go." John pushes him again. The hot water will be good for the sore muscles he knows Dean is trying to hide.

Dean plods his way upstairs to get some clean clothes, and John walks to the kitchen where Sam is bent over a notebook with the kind of focus he hasn't been giving to his few pieces of homework lately.

"Sam, you finished with your homework?" John asks because he's not sure how much homework fourth-graders are actually supposed to get.

"Didn't have any," Sam says shortly.

John stops searching in the fridge for a bottle of water and looks hard at Sam.

"Are you lying to me?" His voice rises in a way that leaves out the _your answer had darn well better be no_.

"I'm almost done." Sam's eyes don't even leave his notebook.

Leaving the fridge to swing shut on its own, John creeps forward and peers down at Sam's dedicated project.

"What—" He doesn't quite know what to make of the symbols on Sam's paper, repeated in straight lines over and over until they fill the page. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing."

John lays the tips of his fingers on Sam's notebook and slides it slowly away from the kid. Sam looks up then, but his face droops into a pout, like John's taken away his toy instead of his homework. He turns the notebook the right way around, but as much as he studies it, he doesn't recognize anything on the paper. They aren't circles, so Sammy isn't practicing writing devil's traps. John hasn't started Sam on devil's traps yet, just the handguns; he needs to know how to handle a gun safely before John _ever_ gives him one with an actual bullet in it.

"Where did you find these symbols?" John knows he has nothing like this in his journal.

"Seth gave them to me." Sammy pulls the notebook back in front of him and turns it around so that he can trace the repeated symbol with the tip of his finger. "See?"

John doesn't even know what he's looking at, much less what he's supposed to be seeing.

"He said they're protection symbols," says Sam. "They'll keep the Big Bads out."

"Big Bads?" Either Sammy and Dean have been making up their own code again, or John is really missing part of this conversation.

"Yeah, like in a video game." Sam nods as if that's the best explanation. "There are Little Bads that you have to get through to fight the Big Bads."

John has no idea what Sammy's talking about since he's never had any video games for his sons. But it sounds like the typical hierarchy among a group of bad guys. There are bosses who order the little ones around. So the protection symbols are for the bosses rather than the underlings. John wonders if demons even have underlings, and he studies the symbol harder.

"He say anything else?" he mutters to the top of Sammy's head.

"Just said that I had to practice until I could paint 'em on the walls with no mistakes." Sam shrugs through the explanation, seeing nothing wrong or particularly important about it.

Dean thunders down the stairs and pokes his head into the kitchen.

"Hey, Sammy, isn't it bedtime for pipsqueaks?" he demands with a grin.

"I'm almost done," Sam says again, like Dean is going to give him more slack than John is. John lays a hand on Sam's shoulder before Dean can undermine him any more.

"No," he says. "Go upstairs and get changed. Brush your teeth."

"Don't you dare take my hot water," Dean says as he ducks into the downstairs bathroom and Sammy trudges obediently — if not reluctantly — up the stairs.

John waits until he hears two doors in the house close before he pulls out his cell phone and flips through his journal to the small business card inserted into one of the pages. He dials the number, checks it on the screen twice, and presses the _send_ button.

"This is Wesson."

"Seth, it's John Winchester," he says into the flip phone.

The man on the other end is silent for half of a second.

"Yeah," Seth says like he's been expecting John to call. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm hunting a demon in Joliet."

"By yourself?" Seth snaps, suddenly more tense.

"Dean's my backup," John says right back, quick and painless.

"Dean's fifteen," Seth says flatly, singularly unimpressed with the answer.

John really wonders if Seth and Bobby are related. He glances back into the kitchen where Sammy left his notebook with the strange symbols, lying open on the table.

"Bobby said you have a lot of knowledge in exorcisms," John starts, leaving the sentence open for Seth to fill in. He can probably get more information as long as Seth is trying to fill any uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah," Seth says quietly. "I have ... experience with demons."

John waits for the rest, but the phone line is silent after that. Apparently, _experience_ is the only clue he's going to get. Still, it's enough that John suspects Seth has as much reason to hate the black-eyed bastards as John does.

"Would you be interested in looking at my case?" he says.

"You want me up there?" Seth asks after a pause.

The other option is conferring over the phone, and John knows a part of him would be happy with just that. But Seth is also a hunter, and if he's in the fight, that's less chance for Dean to get hurt. It was fine when John thought Mr. Wilson was just a shapeshifter, but possession was a different matter.

"Depends how fast you can get here." He decides to leave it in Seth's hands, see what he'll do with it.

"I'll be there tomorrow morning," Seth says.

John gives him the address of the house he's renting and ends the call. He turns back to the table and flips a few pages in Sam's notebook to see some shakier versions of the symbols that he's been working on. Tearing a page out of the notebook, John folds it twice and tucks it into his pants pocket. Better to confront Seth on this once he's actually here.


	2. Chapter 2

_Jake Tully – strength_

_Max Miller – telekenesis_

_Ava Wilson – visions_

_Andy Gallagher – mind control_

_Anselm Weems – mind control_

* * *

Seth knocks on the front door only after both Dean and Sam are at school. He brings take-out coffee that looks like it's from a decent diner instead of just a gas station on the freeway. But Seth's eyes are still shadowed, and he keeps arching his back like he's not used to standing up. Either everything is built too small for him, or he's been in his midsized car for too long. John knows it's a long drive from Kansas, but why would Seth drive that far that fast just to get to John by the next day?

John spends most of the day going over the case with Seth, pausing to send the younger man to pick up some lunch midday. John doesn't tell him about the weeks it took to settle into this house, with John working off the books at a garage that looks more like a chop shop and Sammy putting up a fuss every time John starts to suggest they should move on to a town with an actual hunt. But he does tell Seth about the rumors at first of a well-thought-of man of a higher class neighborhood that had been acting weird. They're still at the kitchen table when a diesel engine tries to rev outside the house and Sam and Dean burst in, slamming the door shut on the school bus outside. Sam thunders up the stairs immediately, bypassing even a "hi" for his father.

"Hey, Dad," Dean says first. He enters the kitchen and eyes the room studiously before he relaxes. Mostly. He nods deeply like a man still reserving judgment. "Seth."

"Hi, Dean." Seth rubs a hand hard across the back of his neck and smiles, much more comfortable than either John or Dean.

"Seth's helping with the demon case," John says shortly. He probably should have warned Dean that the new hunter was coming, but John had hoped he'd have time this morning, before the boys went to school. Instead, Dean had the two of them ready and on the bus before John had a chance to finish his cup of coffee.

"This demon—" Seth leans forward in his chair with one hand resting on his leather journal. "Do you know why it's here?"

"No, we've only seen it once."

"We thought it was a shifter," Dean says suddenly.

Seth looks up at him expectantly, and John wants to recapture his attention.

"A skinwalker?" Dean explains. "But then it's eyes turned black."

"Yeah, that's a demon." Seth frowns deeply. He turns back to John. "Do you know who it is?"

"A man named Wilson." John's pretty sure he's said this already, along with the explanation of why John was thinking skinwalker instead of demon at first.

"Not the possessed, the demon." Seth waves a hand, cutting John's words out of the air.

"Demons don't have names," blurts Dean.

Seth leans back in the kitchen chair and tilts his head up to stare at Dean.

"Yeah, they do." Seth gaze freezes in the middle of Dean's chest for a moment — where that cheap amulet falls — but not long enough for John to get too worried. "Most people only recognize the powerful ones: Samhain, Lucifer."

Really? The Devil? John doesn't really think about God anymore, at least he tries not to. He still recognizes the name, though, and he thinks the way Seth shifts in his seat looks strangely like someone trying to avoid a snake slithering across the floor. Before that image has a chance to sink into John's mind, a thunder of feet on the stairs signals Sam's emergence from upstairs.

"Hey, Seth!" Sammy swings himself into the kitchen and hovers right at Seth's elbow.

John doesn't look at Seth, but he can't look at Sammy either when he's trying not to frown in the middle of wondering why Seth got a greeting when John didn't even warrant one. Seth just looks right at Sam like the kid's the best thing Seth's seen all day.

"Hi, Sam." He even grins, the bastard.

"Are you here to help Dad?" Sam rests his elbows on the table — something he's never allowed to do during supper — and John sees that he's got that notebook he was drawing in last night clutched in both hands.

"Yep, that's the plan." Seth leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, mirroring Sam's posture.

John stands and strides around the table to Dean.

"Get your gear," he commands. "We're going out again today."

Obediently, Dean nods and scoops his backpack up off the floor before he slips out of the kitchen and upstairs. John hopes his exit will give Seth — or Sammy, for that matter — a clue that he wants to get going. But Seth just keeps staring at Sam.

"How's school?" Seth asks.

"It's good," Sam says, like's he's been waiting to be asked. "I've got the most stars in Reading."

John didn't know that, although he doesn't really know what's important about stars in Reading, either. They sound like a point system, but he's always known that Sammy was good at reading. He was reading even earlier than Dean had been when he was Sam's age.

"Hey, I've been practicing the symbols. Wanna see?" Sammy slides the notebook in front of Seth.

John lays his hand flat on top of the notebook before Seth can open it and see how eager Sam is to please him. He hopes the wide eyes haven't already given Sammy away.

"No time," he says. "We're going out."

Sam's head snaps up to his father, injured childish betrayal crossing his face before a stubborn pout takes its place.

"Dean, c'mon," John calls up the stairs and just that is enough to get Dean closing his bedroom door and hurrying down the stairs, his shoes already on.

"Dean said he was gonna do homework with me," Sammy whines. "I have math stuff to do."

John scrapes the notebook across the table and looms over Sam.

"This is more important than division, Sam." It's frustrating that Sammy doesn't understand that when John knows how curious the kid is. Usually too much for his own good.

John leaves the kitchen to fetch his boots by the door. Sam trails after him, practically dragging his feet the whole way.

"Now, don't wait up for us, go to bed on time," says John. "Don't move the salt lines once we're gone. And if anything happens, you call Mrs. Gabbards next door; don't leave the house." He waits for an answer as he ties his boots and looks up sharply when he doesn't hear anything. "Sam?"

"Yessir," Sam mutters at the floor.

Good enough. Dean's already by the door, and even Seth looks ready to go. Except now Seth has that stupid notebook in one hand.

"Let's go," John orders as he yanks the door open.

Dean shrugs into his jacket and leaves, but Seth stays hovering where he is, right between the kitchen and the front door. He walks over to Sam, casual as can be, and hands back the notebook.

"Maybe when we get back," he says. John wants to snap at him and say Seth can't promise something like that when they'll probably be out all night. Sam gets disappointed with broken promises, so John's learned not to make any.

"Tell ya what." Seth bends down and fishes around in the single bag he brought into John's house. "I'll draw them for now, and you can study the way they look on the walls." He withdraws a long piece of chalk from the bag.

"Okay." Sam straightens immediately and stares as Seth turns his back, facing the south wall with two windows on it.

"Sam, go brush your teeth." John refrains from pointing out the way to the bathroom because Sam's old enough to obey without that stupid pout. "Sam!"

Sammy shoots a dirty look in the vague direction of John's left hand before he trudges upstairs. John really should swat his behind for that. Sam probably thinks he can get away with it as long as he doesn't actually meet his father's eye with that look. But more important is the symbol that had been in Sammy's notebook, now repeated three times in John's living room across peeling wallpaper.

Seth doesn't even look at John until he's finished with the chalk and replaces it back in his bag.

"You're leaving him home alone," Seth says lowly as he shrugs the bag on one shoulder. "A little extra protection won't hurt. He's only eleven."

He has the same flat tone that John heard last night, when he said that Dean — the one hunting partner that John trusts with his life most — was fifteen.

"Dean's been staying home alone since he was ten," John says defiantly. "My boys can handle themselves."

Seth's face turns abruptly blank, like he's forcing whatever he wants to say so far down his own throat that he's choking on it. Without another word, Seth marches past John out the door. John can feel his jaw clench as he lays down salt just beyond the threshold, pulls the door shut, and locks it. Dean stands next to the Impala eyeing both Seth and John like he's ready to bolt.

"So the man who's being possessed," Seth says, "you said you know who it is?"

"Bruce Wilson," Dean sounds relieved at the easy question. "He lives at 1211 Sycamore Drive."

John pushes his way in front of Seth.

"I'm driving," he says.

No way is he forcing himself into Wesson's bitty car again.

**o0O0o**

John parks the Impala across the street from the house on Sycamore Drive just in case someone looks out the window and wonders why police officers drive a muscle car.

"How do we get in?" Dean says as he slides out of the back seat.

John turns to say something about approaching as city police officers and asking whoever's in the house — he's hoping Mrs. Wilson is at home — if they've seen anyone matching the description for an APB. The description, of course, will be Mr. Wilson's, but there's a chance Mrs. Wilson won't admit that her husband actually matches the description. So it's a risky plan.

"There's a For Sale sign we passed that's just been closed," Seth says. He circles the car to stand between John and Dean, although he speaks to Dean. "We can be the new neighbors who got lost. We're looking for Sycamore Circle and turned on Sycamore Drive instead."

He gives Dean a bright smile that's somewhat sheepish at the same time it manages to show off a dimple in his cheek. The smile makes Seth look younger than he must be, guileless and innocent.

"Dude, you paid that much attention to street signs?" Dean asks as he cranes his neck to check the nearest intersection to see if Seth is right about the streets.

He is.

"Gotta know what to do if you decide to abduct me." Seth grins at Dean with a smile that's more shit-eating than sheepishly innocent.

John's almost surprised at how quickly it changes, but then he knows the value of conning victims into telling him what he needs to know. Seth's plan will work, and it does present them in a better light than local policemen.

"So, if we're family, you two . . ." Dean waves one finger in between Seth and John.

John gives a full-body shake, caught between smacking his son upside the head or glaring at Seth for putting the idea in Dean's mind in the first place. Somewhere in his flailing, he sees Seth sock Dean on the arm, hard enough that Dean jumps back and twists his mouth into something like a pout.

"Shut up, jerk," says Seth. "I'll be the cool uncle."

"Not very cool," Dean mutters under his breath.

John huffs at the two of them and leads the way to the Wilson house, which somehow looks just like every other house on the block except for the color scheme. Seth knocks briskly on the door, and John takes a position with Dean between the two of them.

John turns back to the door when he hears it open. He opens his mouth and raises one hand to lay on Dean's shoulder, ready to act the family man. Then he sees the black eyes looking out from the same face he had seen last night. John's raised hand comes down hard on Dean's shoulder to shove him back. But as desperate as he is to move — he doesn't have any weapons anywhere — John feels something that can't be a hand pulling him into the house, Dean sailing through the air right beside him. He hears the door slam shut even before he hits the floor. Turning onto his back, John pushes himself to his hands and knees as he tries to get air back into his lungs. He can see Dean on his stomach to his right, and Seth is kneeling behind them.

"I remember you," the black-eyed Wilson says. "You just keep popping up everywhere don't you?"

"Leave them alone," Seth growls.

The demon ignores Seth and bends over John, hovering almost close enough for John to smell his breath.

"Didn't expect hunters in town this week." He looks over Dean, blinking so that his eyes are normal instead of black. "Don't you have a dog to chase somewhere else? I could get one for you if you're bored."

"It'll be so much better chasing your ass back to Hell," John wheezes.

His breath is coming easier now, but he's still worried about his lungs and Dean isn't anywhere near recovered yet. John can't see Seth, but the man hasn't made a sound since that pointless demand the demon won't listen to anyway. The demon frowns as its eyes change back to black.

"You're Winchesters," it says. "I can smell you."

John pulls back, or tries to. He can feel something solid pressing against his back, keeping him in place, even though there's nothing else on the room besides them. The demon straightens up suddenly and claps his hands together.

"Oh, this is good!" He says. "Two families in one week, and no one even on assignment but me."

"Don't touch them," Seth says again.

Dean coughs hoarsely and struggles to his hands and knees. The demon looks positively gleeful. John needs to do something, but his lungs are still tight and he can't move either forward or backward now. Why can't he move?

The demon stretches out one hand, palm out like a barrier. It focuses on Dean, and John struggles so hard his lungs start to burn. Black smoke trickles slowly out of the man's mouth and winds its way through the air, circling toward Dean. John doesn't even have the breath to cry out, but before he can choke on the nothing in his throat, Seth jerks his body to one side and ends up on his knees in front of Dean, half held up by a crooked arm planted on the floor. His other arm comes up as if that's a viable barrier for a wisp of smoke that's getting closer to John's son.

But then the smoke freezes, as if it's a living thing that caught a scent of something it doesn't like. It zips backwards, floating back into Wilson's mouth at twice the speed it hissed out. Back in Wilson's body, the demon bares its teeth at them like a dog, then thrusts both its hands up. A force John can't see coming slams into his face and nearly lifts him off the floor. He tries to duck and roll with the punch — or whatever it is. When he raises his head again, the demon is gone, Dean is pushing himself up with the wall at his back, and Seth is panting against a bookshelf that's lost most of its books and half its shelves.

"What was that?" John presses one hand to his chest as he stands, but his breathing is already getting easier.

"It was trying to possess—" Seth waves one hand at Dean and keeps the other pressed into his side. He sounds breathless, and John wonders if he's broken some ribs against that bookcase.

Dean gingerly pats down his head, but at least he's standing. He's got a wonderful bruise under one eye that's probably going to become a nice shiner tomorrow, but he's standing.

"Easy target, I guess." Dean shrugs but keeps his eyes down.

John swallows back the harshness that's still stuck in his throat. He took his son demon hunting and almost got him killed. John pushes himself to his knees, feeling better for being upright.

"What did you do?" John trains his eyes on Seth.

Seth looks back, but his eyes are slightly unfocused.

"What?"

Dean approaches Seth carefully and kneels down to wrap one arm around the taller man.

"Yeah, man, that was like a vacuum in reverse." Dean almost grins as he slowly, _slowly_ helps Seth to stand. "_Schwoop_." He approximates the noise he's thinking of while one hand follows the direction of the demon-smoke.

Seth blinks slowly, and John starts thinking they have to get out and check Seth more thoroughly. But then, Seth tugs at the collar of his shirt until John sees a tattoo etched into the man's skin, right over his heart.

"It's an anti-possession symbol." Seth's voice comes out a little clearer, but he still sounds like he's catching his breath. "We mixed the ink with holy water. Bobby's got a couple etched on leather amulets."

John nods heavily as he gets up himself. His back is bruised but only sore in a way that means he took a hard hit. The front room of the small house is a mess, but John can't see any other evidence of the supernatural. With only the three of them standing in it, the room looks more like a robbery gone wrong than a demon possession.

"Wha—what was it saying about family?" Seth says suddenly.

John has to think back to find what Seth is talking about, but Dean apparently doesn't. Dean's eyes grow wide, and he looks at John so fast that John's afraid his body is going to follow his neck and just jerk away from Seth to leave the man standing on his own.

"Sammy," Dean breathes.

"Dean, wait," John says before Dean can bolt straight out the door and go back to the house on foot.

Dean freezes, and Seth runs his fingertips through his hair toward the back of his head. They come away bloody. John's chest settles a little with a clear direction to take, and he steps forward, once again the commander of the mission.

"Check the house," he orders Dean. "Make sure there's nothing else here."

Dean nods once then takes off to explore the rest of the ground level. John takes Dean's place holding Seth upright, but Seth wavers in his grip like he'd rather stand on his own.

"You alright?" John stops taking Seth's weight, but he keeps one firm hand on Seth's back just in case he's overestimating Seth's strength. Or underestimating his concussion.

"Yeah."

John takes a moment to prod at the back of Seth's skull and finds the knot where he guesses Seth crashed into the bookcase. Seth flinches but otherwise doesn't move under the examination. The goose egg is already present, but John takes a handkerchief from his back pocket to press against the bleeding. Seth's hand folds over the fabric without prompting and John moves on to feeling each of Seth's ribs down his side. He has to stand in front of Seth to get to the floating ribs, and John glances at Seth's heart even though his shirt is covering the five-point star symbol again.

"That tattoo is all it takes?" John asks.

"Most of the time." Seth shifts as if he wants to shrug, but his chest won't really let his shoulders move.

There's something hovering under Seth's response, but John can't parse it out immediately. Two of Seth's ribs have a little more give than they should, but John thinks they're fractured rather than broken. Easier healing process, and they won't have to go to a hospital for just that. Briefly, John is relieved that Seth is the one who fractured his ribs instead of Dean, but he pushes that thought down. What ifs are just another way to go crazy, and he has to focus now on the fact that a demon is on the loose and knows both his and his son's face.

Dean comes back into the front room, his shoulders slumped and defeated.

"It ran away," he says.

"Lucky us." It doesn't make sense that the demon would just leave when it had all of them pinned. He wonders if the tattoo is strong enough to repel demons as well as keep them from possessing a body.

"Dad." Dean steps closer to John and Seth, his body suddenly tense. "Sammy's alone at the house."

Right, the demon said something about families. John doesn't know why, since Wilson is apparently a single man. The demon might have heard their plan to approaching the house in the guise of a family, but then it would know that the three of them aren't an actual family. Just John and Dean, and even then Dean takes more after Mary.

"Right." John abruptly takes his hands off Seth. The man is recovered enough to stand on his own, and John needs to see Sammy so that his heart rate can come back down to normal. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

_Jake Tully – strength, Army, NC?_

_Max Miller – telekinesis, Saginaw, MI, father – Jim _

_Ava Wilson – visions, Peoria, IL_

_Andy Gallagher – mind control_

_Anselm Weems – mind control_

_Lily Noonan – heart attacks _

* * *

John turns all the lights off except the kitchen one. He's just going downstairs after putting the boys to bed because of _course_ Sammy had been staying up caught between staring at the walls — at Seth Wesson's symbols — and doing his math homework by himself. Even the relief of seeing Sammy just sitting in the living room covering his yawn with one hand hadn't stopped John's heart from pounding the same rate it had been ever since the demon in the house. Plus, Sammy had kicked up a fuss when Seth had retreated into the kitchen without going over Sam's attempts to draw on the walls to match Seth's symbols. John knows that Seth never should have promised Sam anything.

Stomping his way into the kitchen, John sees Seth sitting at the head of the kitchen table, his elbows on the table as his hands fist into his shaggy hair.

"What's the matter with you?" Not that John cares, with the way Seth's been deliberately sketchy about what he did to the demon. But if Seth was injured in that fight, he could be a liability. But then John notices something like a small notebook open in between Seth's elbows. It's not one of Sammy's; it looks more like a business-type-thing they sell at office stores. "What's that?"

"Bruce Wilson's day planner," Seth says without looking up. "I thought I could find out who he's been meeting with—"

John admits that makes some sense. Demons can jump from body to body, so maybe Wilson had been hanging around with someone who had dived too far into something he didn't understand.

"He's got a sister in Peoria. She was supposed to visit this weekend with her husband and their daughter." Seth's voice sounds choked and harsh. "Her name's Ava."

"Does that matter?" John can understand the fear, considering the demon had been talking about destroying families, and even he gets a sick feeling when he sees kids involved in a case — demon or otherwise. But it sounds like the kid's safe now, and it doesn't really have any bearing on the fact they have to find the demon and exorcise it.

Seth's head finally snaps up, and he pins John with a glare, like he's angry with John for not getting it.

"Demons aren't just after souls." Seth frowns so deeply his forehead has grooves in it. "They want something specific. Some of them."

"What?" John plants his hands on the table and leans down to get into Seth's face. "Now they have a plan?" He might not be the expert in exorcisms that Seth apparently is, but he knows what demons are: agents of chaos. "They want to destroy. That's all."

"That's all?!" Seth snaps back, leaning forward to meet John's anger head-on. "These aren't creatures you can hunt and kill. They're smarter, they're stronger, and you can't do this by yourself."

John isn't by himself, though, and if this is supposed to be some argument that Seth needs to become his new partner, John thinks he's doing a shitty job of it.

"What if Dean had gotten possessed?" Seth says. "Would you shoot him?"

"What!"

John can't even comprehend that image. His mind refuses. He focuses instead on what Seth has accused him of.

"What do you think I'm doing?" John crashes into one of the flimsy chairs trying to get to Seth, though he doesn't know yet if he going to shake him by the collar or punch him in the face.

Seth leans back, his expression dialing down from raging anger to a simmer that freezes his features in a hard stare.

"You don't know the first thing about what you're hunting or how to do it," Seth says.

"You're blaming this on me?!" John's hand clenches on the back of the chair, and he remembers he's got two boys sleeping upstairs, and one of them is so enamored with this self-righteous hunter that he pouts when _John_ is the one to put him to bed. "What the hell are you teaching my son behind my back?"

Seth surges to his feet, like _this _is the thing that offends him.

"I haven't done a thing to Dean!" he shouts. "He's too damn loyal to you!"

John shoves the chair out of the way and stands chest-to-chest with Seth.

"To Sam!" he growls in Seth's face. "You've got him practicing your cryptic symbols until his hand goes numb."

"They're protection symbols!" Seth waves a large hand towards the living room, where his strange lines are still plastered on the walls. "He's going to need them!"

"Why?" John's stomach disappears. "What are you doing to them!"

"Nothing!" Seth throws both hands up in the air, not even trying to hit John. He stares at John coldly. "You hunt the damn demon however you want."

With that, Seth spins on a heel and leaves the kitchen so fast that he's almost running away.

"Where are you going?" John follows him into the living room and watches him pick up his bag on his way to the door.

"For a walk!" Seth jerks the front door open and slams it shut behind him.

John scrubs a hand over the top of his head, his body still tense with adrenaline that doesn't have anything to do now. The house is strangely quiet, and John casts a glance at the stairs. It's probably too much that both Sam and Dean slept through that, and now John is down a man for the rest of the demon hunt.

John goes back into the kitchen for the jar of salt that's ever-present in a Winchester house and starts going around the windows, making sure nothing can get in. No demon is coming after his family again. He pauses in the living room and stares at the chalk symbols on the walls. His fingers itch to peel the wallpaper straight off the walls, but if they're really protection symbols, that might mean something could happen if he takes them down. John lays down a straight salt line around the entire room and leaves it, taking his revolver with him as he shuts the door to his room.

**o0O0o**

Seth doesn't come back that night. Or in the morning. Dean tries to argue from staying home from school, but John can't justify too many absences without the system getting suspicious so he sends the boys off with the usual words to Dean, _Watch out for your brother_.

John isn't foolish enough to go out looking for the demon by himself, so he just drives to the store to pick up some boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner. There's no time for anything else. When he pulls back up to the house, Seth Wesson's car is sitting by the curb, empty. John leaves the groceries in the car and cautiously goes to the house with his gun in his free hand. Seth's bag is sitting next to the door when John opens it, and Seth sits in the same chair at the kitchen table he's claimed before, bent over his open journal like he's supposed to be there waiting for John to get back.

John lowers the hammer on his gun and feels a sharp spike of something like smug pride when Seth jumps in his seat and raises wide eyes to John.

"Good walk?" John asks, his back rigidly straight.

Seth's mouth twitches nervously, and he ducks his head down to his journal. John lowers the gun and walks into the kitchen to stand close to the table.

"I was doing some research." Seth rubs his fingers over the open pages of his journal.

The journal is a little sideways because of where he's standing, but John can read enough without craning his neck to make out a list.

_Jake Tully_

_Max Miller_

_Ava Wilson_

Seth closes the journal with one hand before John gets any further, but then Seth rubs at his eyes with his fingertips, so John doesn't think he's noticed John's snooping. Seth sighs as he drops his hands again.

"Look, I'm not a danger to you, or to Dean or Sam," he says. "I just know more about the way Hell works."

It's not exactly an apology, but John has a feeling he's never going to hear the words _I'm sorry_ from Seth.

"Hell isn't just chaos," Seth continues, despite the fact John doesn't sit down or take his hand from his gun. "It's mostly chaos with tyrants ruling it. The thing we saw yesterday, that was an imp, at best. He's got no power in the Pit, but he'll grab whatever he can, kiss up to whatever red-eyed boss he needs to."

"Red eyes?" John shakes his head without thinking. "Demons have black eyes."

"Not all."

John almost opens his mouth to argue again because he's learned the rules of this game, but then he freezes.

"There are different eyes?" he asks.

"Not a lot." Seth doesn't even look reluctant to share information. "Crossroad demons have red eyes. They're pretty low on the totem, but whoever's King of the Crossroads has an in with the higher-ups."

Some of this is making a hell of a lot of sense to John. He sinks slowly into the chair next to Seth and lays his gun on the table in front of him.

"How high would a demon have to be to have yellow eyes?"

Seth blinks away his sudden surprise as his eyebrows do something that looks like he's trying not to frown. It makes him look confused more than anything.

"Pretty damn high," Seth says cautiously. His words come slower now, so that he sounds like a kid who knows he's not supposed to be talking about something. "The highest— the most powerful demons, both there and on Earth, are the ones that served Lucifer when he fell."

"Lucifer?"

Seth has said the name twice now, but still, John shakes his head. Seth shrugs and slumps in his chair, a man tired and defeated.

"Bible at least got the names right, if not the story," Seth says, his eyes on the table in front of John. "Lucifer's locked away; he can't get out of Hell. But he can get others to do his bidding." His eyes flicker up, cautious and guarded. "They call them Knights of Hell, and they're some of the most powerful bastards in the Pit. Holy water doesn't stop them, or salt lines. But they can't cross iron."

John wonders just how Seth came by this knowledge and what his _experience_ with demons really was. John hasn't even heard of hunters crossing paths with high-up demons; no one else knows anything about a Demon with yellow eyes. Now he knows that a Big Bad from the Pit — a Knight of Hell — killed his wife. John swallows down against the heavy pressure that rests right on his lungs. He needs to keep his head.

"What about the symbols you're drawing on my walls?" he asks Seth.

He'll deal with the Knight of Hell later, once he feels more like he can breathe. Besides, he's wanted to know what Seth's teaching Sammy for two days now, and he knows Seth can give him those answers, at least.

"They're protection—"

"That's what Sam said." John's hand comes down on the edge of the table hard. "Protection from what?"

"From Lucifer and his Knights," Seth says immediately. "It's Enochian, and it's strong enough to keep anyone with that kind of power from seeing you or hearing you."

John waits, but Seth doesn't say anything more.

"No catches?" he asks.

If Seth has something that powerful, why would he teach it to an eleven-year-old and not to John as a fellow hunter? And John hasn't said anything about why he wants to know about demons with yellow eyes, so how does Seth know that Sam and Dean need that kind of protection?

John has to swallow again at the thought of the Demon going after his sons, and he focuses on Seth.

"Why'd you give them to Sam?"

"Because if he can't live a normal life, he at least needs to feel like he can be useful." Seth's voice practically cuts the words out of his mouth, it's so sharp. Even his eyes stare at John pointedly. "You're going out killing monsters, and half the time Dean's with you, and where does that leave Sam? Hiding under his covers, waiting to hear how badly you've been hurt this time?"

There's something hard and hurt under Seth's words, but John is already thinking of waking up on a motel with Sammy pressed into his side because the boy wanted to make sure his dad was alright.

"And you know this just from one day with my boy?" he asks to cover up how much he already knows it's true. He doesn't want anyone else reading that much into his son.

"I know because my dad did the same thing." Seth's hand clenches on top of his journal, but he won't meet John's eyes. "He'd leave on his missions, and I'd sit on the bed and wonder if he was coming back, every time."

John runs his fingers over the barrel of his gun and takes in the silence of the house. He knows his boys don't have a normal life, but the Demon stole that away from them all years ago. If there wasn't such an active enemy out there somewhere, John wouldn't even consider making gun cleaning a regular part of Sammy's life or teaching Dean how to hunt when he's only fifteen and should be more concerned with learning how to drive. But John knows that the Demon attacked his home, and with Seth's new information, it sounds like this Demon is somewhere high up in Hell's hierarchy.

"How do we find out what this imp-thing wants with Wilson?" John asks. Best to focus on the hunt they're on now. When they're done and safe, then John can interrogate Seth more about the Knights of Hell and whether or not they actually have yellow eyes.

"We can try to trap it, but we'd have to lure it to someplace we have a devil's trap," says Seth. "Unless you can draw one in less than thirty seconds."

"Can you?" John glares, just in case Seth is trying to show off, like with the exorcism.

"No human can do that."

Oh, great. Now Seth's back to rolling his eyes at John.

"Good enough," he says, ignoring the insubordination for now. "I guess one of us would be the best bait."

"Better me than you," Seth says.

John might take issue with that, especially since now the demon knows that it can't possess Seth because of that stupid tattoo. That's another thing John's going to have to look into. Maybe he should be keeping a list.

"Show me the devil's trap first."


	4. Chapter 4

_Jake Tully – strength, __Army__, Greensboro, NC_

_Max Miller – telekinesis, Saginaw, MI, father – Jim_

_Ava Wilson – visions, Peoria, IL, uncle – Bruce Wilson_

_Andy Gallagher – mind control_

_Anselm Weems – mind control, social system, CA?_

_Lily Noonan – heart attacks, Barrie, Ontario_

_Scott Carey – electrokinesis_

* * *

The school bus drops the boys off right on time, and John is still at the kitchen table with Seth. The table's much fuller now, with both their journals open — Seth's has some high class devil's traps in there — and John has been making notes about demon eye colors while Seth gets distracted with paging through the phone book, looking for any more Wilson relatives. John has a feeling Seth is still worried about the demon's comment about families. It's certainly enough to make John's hair stand on end, but he isn't going to show that to either of his boys.

The door closes in the living room, and a thud signals a dropped backpack right onto the carpet.

"Pick up your bag, Sammy," John calls. "It doesn't belong on the floor."

More shuffling from the other room, and Sam comes into the kitchen, dragging his backpack along the floor behind him.

"Hi, Dad," he says. "Hi, Seth."

"Hey, Sam." Seth smiles again at the kid, then looks up when Dean enters the kitchen right behind Sammy.

"Hey." Dean tilts his chin up with a head bob that is supposed to be a cool and mature greeting. John thinks his son looks more like a teenager trying to be cool and mature.

"You boys got homework?" John asks before either of them can comment on the state of the table.

"I did it all at school!" Sammy crows triumphantly.

John turns his eyes to Dean, who just shrugs. John takes the silent _yes_, knowing he's not going to get anything more.

"Get your homework done before supper," he orders Dean. "Sammy, I want you to work on those protection symbols while Seth's still here."

"Really?" Sam practically bounces in place as his eyes dart from John to Seth and back. A grin that wide is usually reserved for big brother Dean, and John feels something tighten around his chest when Sam's eyes and grin stay on him instead of Seth.

"Really?" Dean's eyebrows are halfway up to his hair in a way that wants to ask a different question but won't.

John doesn't doubt that Dean heard most of his argument with Seth last night, considering the loudest part was about what Seth was trying to teach Sam. He doesn't know yet if he wants to explain to Dean just how much of a threat the Demon is. Maybe once he knows more.

"Really," John answers both boys, but he keeps his eyes on Sammy's huge grin. "You should keep busy, and Seth can check your work once you're done."

And now Seth's looking at him with eyebrows raised. Seth doesn't say anything though, just turns and smiles back at Sam like checking on the kid's Enochian protective symbols is the only good thing he's going to do today.

"Cool!" Sam says.

John looks up at Dean, just to make sure he's on board with this plan. But Dean's eyes are scanning over the table just like John _doesn't_ want them to be. John follows his gaze to the outline of the anti-possession tattoo that Seth drew for him on a spare piece of paper.

"Homework, Dean," John says.

Dean shoves himself backwards to hover in the kitchen doorway and shrugs with one shoulder.

"We going out again tonight?" For all Dean knows, they're still on the hunt.

"Seth and I are. You and Sammy are staying here."

"Dad," Dean starts, straightening like a soldier at attention.

"I don't want you on this one, Dean." John adds just enough edge in his voice to make it clear that's the end of the conversation.

"You wanted me on it yesterday," Dean mutters in the general direction of the floor.

"No."

Dean clenches his jaw but stays silent.

"Seth and I will handle this," John says. He turns to Seth and takes in Sammy's wide-eyed look as he does. For as much as Sammy likes to push boundaries, John knows he's never really seen John and Dean fight.

"Lemme see if I got any paint in my trunk," John says to Seth. Best thing to do is act like the tension in the room doesn't bother him so that Sam won't think anything of it.

"I—" Seth closes his teeth suddenly around words that his mouth was already forming. "Alright."

John takes the break he's given and marches outside. As he walks to the Impala, sliding the key in to pop the trunk, the front door opens and closes quickly as Dean hurries outside.

"Dad, I can help," he says as soon as he's at John's side.

Damn if his kid — God, _both _his kids — aren't as stubborn as the day is long.

"I don't want you near a demon without some insurance," John says, using one hand to rifle past the weapons in the trunk. "We weren't prepared for this." Which still bothers him, but the hunt is more important.

He just has to get through this hunt.

"Dad, you—"

John looks up when Dean has nothing more to say, but Dean's staring at the house instead.

"Are you sure you trust him?" he asks quietly.

John straightens from his cache of hunting tools and studies Dean, the way he shifts his weight despite his planted stance.

"We were yelling pretty loud last night," John says, just to see what Dean makes of that.

"I don't think Sammy heard."

Of course, he's more concerned with his brother. John doesn't really have anything to compare his boys to; it was just him and his mom when he was a kid. But a larger part of him is glad they're so close. No matter what, he can rely on Dean to look after Sam.

"He's got some security that we don't," John says. Hesitantly, he pulls out his trump card. "And he might know something about the Demon."

Dean's head snaps up, and his body freezes.

"The Yellow-Eyed Demon?"

Dean knows the full story about what happened the night Mary died, even if John's never spoken about it with Sammy. But that's more than John actually wants to talk about now. It's more than he can handle now.

"I'm not saying I trust him, but I want Sammy to study those symbols, and I want you with Sammy." He closes the trunk again and shoves the keys back in his pocket.

"Yes, sir."

John leads the way back into the house with Dean following him.

"No paint," John calls as Dean shuts the front door.

Seth pokes his head out of the open kitchen doorway.

"We can always pick some up," he says. "Or I've got—"

John's phone rings abruptly, and John digs into his pocket to flip the phone open and hold it to his ear.

"Yeah."

"Agent Madison?" says the voice on the other end, professional and curt.

"Madison?" John mutters and pats his pockets self-consciously even though he's sure there's no fake badges on him in this town. He's avoided law enforcement for a reason.

Suddenly, Seth steps forward with a crazy gesture of his hand that looks more like a spasm than a wave. When John frowns, Seth jabs his finger into his chest, mouthing _That's me_.

"This is his partner, John Page." John half-turns from Seth and keeps the phone pressed to his jaw. "Can I help you?"

"Agent Page, this is Officer Moser with City Dispatch," says the man on the phone. "Agent Madison asked us to keep him updated on the APB on Bruce Wilson."

When the hell had Seth done that? And couldn't he have told John before the phone call came in?

"Yes," John still says, because it's a good strategy even if Seth did it on his own. "Did you locate him?"

"We have a witness that tied him to an abduction," Officer Moser says shortly. John ignores the slip because it's not that much of a stretch to think he and his non-existant FBI partner are actually working together. "We've still got the witness at the gas station on Fifteenth and France."

"We'll be there in ten minutes." John cuts him off. Slapping his phone shut again, John turns back to Seth.

"Madison?" He raises an eyebrow at Seth. It's the same look he gives his sons when he wants them to confess, but Seth just shrugs at it.

"I figured it couldn't hurt to have some local help," he says.

"So you gave them _my_ number?" John holds up the phone in question.

"I only have a landline, and that's in Kansas. Not very helpful."

Smug bastard doesn't even look sorry about it.

John leaves it alone. As much as he probably should chew Seth out for not telling him about whatever he's been doing on his own since last night, he can't deny that it's effective. At least they have somewhere to go now.

"Looks like we're doing this on the fly." John rolls his shoulders back. Trapping a demon while it's standing still is going to be harder than luring it into a trap already set up, but they need to get rid of this thing before someone recognizes John or the police can get too involved in something they can't handle.

"Right," Seth says. He strides back into the kitchen and comes out again with his journal and the jar of salt from last night.

"Lock up behind us," John orders Dean as Seth packs up his small bag.

"Yessir."

"Dean."

Both John and Dean turn to look at Seth where he stands with Sam just to his left.

"I promise I'll protect your dad." Seth's eyes never leave Dean's.

John doesn't know if he should say anything — he can protect his own damn self, thank you very much — when Seth looks so serious and Dean even more so.

"You'd better," Dean says finally, his voice low and almost threatening.

"Jerk," Sammy sighs and rolls his head back because he hasn't quite gotten the hang of rolling his eyes at his brother yet. "That's what partners are for, dummy."

Seth blinks at the kid then looks at John like he's not quite sure what to do with that. To be honest, neither is John.

**o0O0o**

They pull up along the main street across from the gas station, and there are already two police cars — one squad car and one plain black car — with their blue and red lights flashing. John gets out of Seth's car but hangs back. He doesn't usually deal with cops in a town he's planning on staying in. The boys still have a few weeks left of school. Luckily, Seth already offered to drive to the crime scene and take the lead once there since he was the one to put out the APB on Wilson. John isn't above taking advantage of that.

Seth slams the door shut on his car and strides up to the nearest cop car, complete with a suit jacket he pulled out of his duffle.

"Who's in charge here?" Seth flashes his badge at a uniformed officer, who points out a man standing by the black car as yellow police tape cuts off most of the space behind the gas station. Seth sets off right away, leaving John to follow him.

"Sergeant Hechl?" Seth holds out his badge again to the gray-haired man while John does the same thing behind Seth's back, holding the fake wallet up just long enough for the sergeant to know he's with Seth.

"I'm Agent Madison. This is my partner Agent Page." Seth nods to one side toward John and slips his badge back in his inside pocket. "We heard you have a person of interest in a case of ours."

Seth's voice lifts toward the end of the sentence, making it more leading than questioning. The older man shifts so that he can duck until the police tape, holding it up for Seth and John to follow.

"Suspect fled on foot after the attack—" Hechl waves a small black notebook down the street as he leads the way along the concrete block wall that makes up the back of the gas station. "—one girl escaped into the building. The other one is still missing."

John follows the sergeant's gaze to where a teenage girl stands next to a uniformed officer. She keeps glancing at the dumpster as if she expects something to jump out from behind it. Leaving Seth to talk to the sergeant, John approaches the dumpster carefully, looking for strange signs he's not even sure of.

"How'd you get the report?" Seth asks.

"Kid at the station register called it in." Hechl glances down at the notebook in his hand. "Girl's name is Kelly Hughes. She said a man came up to her and her friend, a Susie Micheals, and attacked them. We're still trying to figure out how."

John sees scuff marks and drag marks coming from the dumpster, but nothing to suggest anything supernatural. He really hopes this isn't just a human abduction they've stumbled on.

"She shaken up?"

"More like high," Sergeant Hechl says as shares a long-suffering look with Seth. "She keeps saying the man's eyes were glowing."

Seth glances at John just long enough for them to know they both heard Hechl's words. Seth looks back at the sergeant as John walks around the dumpster so he's close enough to keep up with the conversation.

"Mind if we talk to her." Seth's voice doesn't have any give. "We just need her to ID the guy we're interested in."

"Go ahead." Hechl steps aside and waves them ahead.

John watches the way Hechl agrees easily to letting a stranger, and an FBI agent at that, step into an ongoing investigation that should be pressed for time, considering it presents like an abduction. John doesn't think Seth has ever been military — he's pretty sure he'd be able to ID a fellow grunt at least — but John knows he doesn't have enough information or experience to ID a former police officer or detective.

Then, Seth is walking up to the teenager, Kelly. Part of John hopes the kid is actually high. If this girl starts crying, he's going to climb into the dumpster himself.

"Kelly?" Seth starts. He bends his head down to meet the girl's eyes. "We're from the FBI. Can you tell us about the man you saw?"

Kelly swipes a hand across her face and quickly folds her arms again.

"He was medium tall, brown hair, kind of skinny."

It matches Wilson's description, but it also matches Dean's back home.

"Anything else?" Seth presses. When the girl only shrugs, Seth bends down so far he almost folds himself in half. "I promise we'll listen to anything you have to say, Kelly."

Kelly shrugs again and shifts her weight from foot to foot.

"His eyes didn't have any color," she finally whispers. "Like, none at all. Solid black."

She passes her fingertips in front of one eye to demonstrate, like she's wiping a paintbrush across her face. John forgets to act like he's still searching the dumpster and starts examining this Kelly girl. She lifts her chin and stares right at John when she sees him staring at her.

"I'm not crazy," she says.

"We know you're not," Seth says before John can. Maybe that's a good thing, no one to remember him talking.

"Really?"

There's the look John was afraid of: defiant teenager who expects the world to be against her.

"Where do you think the X-files got their inspiration?"

John hasn't seen a frown like that since Dean wanted to get his driver's license early.

"You mean you're Scully and Mulder?" she asks.

Seth actually smiles a little.

"He's Scully." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder at John. "I'm Mulder."

Kelly's face transforms from dubious teenager into awestruck kid, just enough to soften her eyes and make her look young. For all the redirecting Seth is doing, John does feel sorry for her. Seth turns on his heel and marches back towards the dumpster.

"Find anything?" he asks.

John shakes his head and point down to the only thing the police haven't picked up on yet, a spatter of blood under one of the dumpster's wheels close to the building. Seth frowns down at it and then turns in a circle, keeping his eyes to the ground. John follows his gaze until he sees another drop of blood four feet away from the building, heading down the street that Hechl had pointed out as the means of escape. John starts forward, but suddenly a hand on his arm brings him up short. He spins his head to glare at Seth, but Seth is staring at Sergeant Hechl instead. Hechl is staring right back.

John forces his muscles to relax and shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Thanks for your help, sergeant," Seth calls to the police officer. "Keep us appraised of any developments."

Seth holds out a cream-colored business card, with different text and font than the one John still has in his journal.

"Do you think this is your guy?" Hechl asks as he takes Seth's fake card.

"No," says Seth. "But we'd still like to see that girl get her friend back."

Seth shoots Kelly a sympathetic look, and John can't even tell how much of the expression is fake.

"We'll do all we can," Hechl says by rote.

Seth leads the way back to his too-small car.

"What the hell are we doing?" John hisses at him.

"We can't follow the blood trail from here." Seth opens the door and slides into the driver's seat. "We'll park a few blocks down and pick it up from there."

"Do you think it's the demon's blood?"

"No," Seth says shortly.


	5. Chapter 5

_Jake Tully – strength, __Army__, Greensboro, NC_

_Max Miller – telekinesis, Saginaw, MI, father – Jim_

_Ava Wilson – visions, Peoria, IL, uncle – Bruce Wilson (dec.)_

_Andy Gallagher – mind control, Salt Lake City, UT_

_Anselm Weems - mind control, social system, CA?_

_Lily Noonan - heart attacks, Barrie, Ontario_

_Scott Carey – electrokinesis_

_Sam Winchester –_

* * *

It takes them two hours to pick up the blood trail again and then track it to a remodeled warehouse on the industrial edge of the city near the state highway. The time makes John anxious, and he's close to bursting into the building by the time they know where they're going.

"Wait," Seth snaps as he jogs back to the car they've left halfway down the street.

John follows him. They've already got their guns, and John doesn't know what else is going to be helpful, especially if the demon has a hostage. Seth just pops the trunk and dives in as far as his height will let him.

"You got a plan?" John asks.

Seth emerges from the trunk with the jar of salt from John's house.

"Go around the building and seal off any exit you can find with this."

"I thought salt was useless against these guys." John gives the jar a shake anyway to make sure the salt will pour smoothly.

"The higher ups, yeah," Seth says. "But it should slow down this guy."

He presses a light can of spray paint in John's other hand and slams the trunk shut to go to the driver's door.

"And what am I supposed to do with this?" John follows Seth around the car, keeping his voice low only because it seems the thing to do in the dark with a demon ensconced in a building nearby.

Seth pulls his head out of the car again with his journal in one hand, already open to the back pages. He holds it out to John and lets him see the circles of devil's traps outlined there.

"This one should go on the walls wherever you can get it." Seth points out one circle in the middle of the page, bisected by a five-point star with symbols in each open space. The symbols aren't exactly the same as the ones Sammy is supposed to be practicing at home, but John sees enough similarities that they could be the same language.

"It's not as foolproof as drawing a devil's trap around him," Seth says, "but it should keep him in the building long enough for an exorcism."

John looks between the inked drawings and the spray paint can. It'll take him longer than usual to draw these things just because he's going off someone else's directions, not to mention the salt barrier.

"How about you do the drawings and I'll take the salt?" John says.

"You need me to distract the demon while you're working."

"Distract—"

It takes John a minute to connect the pieces, and that's a minute longer than it should.

"You mean you want to go in there with the demon? Alone!" He's in Seth's face again, hissing as angrily as he can without raising his voice. It feels a lot like last night, actually.

"He can't possess me," Seth says calmly. "You're vulnerable, so you get the spray paint."

John's lips pull back from his teeth, but he knows Seth is right. John tucks the jar of salt under one arm and snags the open journal with his free hand.

"When we're done here, you're showing me exactly how to get that tattoo," he says.

Seth gives him a grimace in place of a smile and closes his car door again. He holds his gun in one hand and walks into the front door of the building, not once looking back at John.

It sounds like the stream of red paint makes as much noise as a plane flying overhead instead of the soft hiss it should be. John keeps looking back at the journal propped open in one hand to make sure he's doing this right; he doesn't want to mess this up and risk either himself or Seth. John May not know a lot about the man, but he'll readily acknowledge that he needs Seth.

As he finishes a strange upside down Y on the last door he finds, John hears two voices inside the building. He easily recognizes the deeper one as Seth's which means the lighter, higher voice is the demon. John tucks the spray can back into the bag Seth left him and slowly pulls open the door, cringing when it squeaks on its hinges.

"Where's the girl?" Seth's voice says.

"Oh, you noticed my handiwork?"

John slides his way along the wall, his gun out and held close to his head.

"I should be pleased, but you know," the demon says lightly with a flippant pause, "hunters."

"What do you want?" Seth snaps.

John knows where they are — or at least he has a pretty good guess considering the layout of the building. He doesn't have time to make sure the building is clear, so he just heads for the open floor on the west side. The voices get longer with every step he takes.

"We'll, let's think about this," comes the demon's flippant voice. "Me demon, you hunter. How could this meeting possibly end?"

It sounds like a teenager flipping off to a teacher, and John only recognizes that because of the one time he got called into the principal's office at Dean's high school. He comes to a metal door at the end of the hall and carefully pushes it open with one hand. This one doesn't squeak.

"You killed a woman just to get our attention?" Seth says as John pads softly around the edges of the wide open space that might serve as a factory floor or production area.

"Pfft." The demon makes a noise that sets John's goose hairs on end. "I killed her because Hell doesn't accept collect calls. You wouldn't believe the service charges."

John passes by a large round pipe and has a better view of both Seth and the demon now. They're both standing in the center of the floor like a crazy Mexican standoff, except without weapons. Seth doesn't even have his gun drawn. There's a body lying against the far wall, like it was tossed there carelessly. It's a girl, a young one. John feels sick at the thought of the police finding her like this.

"Who are you reporting to?" Seth demands.

John recognizes the need to get serious, and whether Seth has seen him yet or not John needs to get into a better position. He trains his gun onto Wilson's back and slowly steps away from the wall.

"You think this is an interrogation?" The demon, still wearing Wilson's clothes on Wilson's body, throws it's head back and laughs. "Oh, that's rich. What—"

John sees the demon try to make a move. What move exactly isn't clear, but it involves raising a hand to the roof of the building like it wants to bring the whole mess down on Seth's head. Seth jolts forward and body-slams into the demon's body, knocking both of them backwards. John runs forward, but he can't shoot with the amount of hand-to-hand that's going on.

"Wesson!"

Seth needs to get out of the way, but he's still holding on tight to the demon. A flash of metal appears in the middle of the scuffle, and suddenly the demon cries out, throwing back it's head. Seth has his knife — long and thick like a Bowie — shoved straight through the demon's arm and pinning it to the wall. Seth slams a hand over the demon's mouth like he wants to keep it quiet. At least until John sees the black smoke leaking between Seth's clasped fingers.

"Where's the salt?" Seth shouts.

John fumbles in his jacket to retrieve the salt while keeping a hold of his gun. When he pulls out the half-empty container, Seth pulls on his knife and throws the demon over his right side so they both land on the floor several feet from the wall. John quickly empties the salt jar in a ring around both of them. As soon as he's done, Seth leaps back, still holding his knife but without his gun. The demon coughs, but no smoke comes out of its mouth. It slumps up to its knees and raises a head to Seth and John. Its nose is bloody.

"What did you do?"

John cocks back the hammer on his gun and points it at Wilson's head.

"Who are you reporting to?"

Whatever those symbols were, they're working. The demon twists his head all directions like it's looking for an escape route, then blinks at John with eyes inky black.

"Weren't there three of you lug heads before?" It tosses out with a curious tilt of his head. "What happened to the little guy?"

Little guy makes John think of Sammy, excited to do his homework and eager to learn his new hunting assignment perfectly, and John's hand tightens sound the grip of the gun. And then he remembers that Dean was in Wilson's house yesterday, and the gun nearly goes off.

"He has nothing to do with this." Somehow John's voice is steady. "Answer the question."

The demon turns back to Seth as John shifts just enough that he can see the demon sneering at Seth.

"You haven't trapped me," it says.

Seth takes a hip flask from his back pocket and unscrews the cap without taking his eyes from the demon. John doesn't know what it is, but he's guessing holy water by the way the demon shifts nervously.

"What are you going to do?" it asks. "You can't kill me."

"We're only here for your meat suit," Seth says blandly. "Just tell us who sent you on assignment, and we'll let you leave the man and go back to your boss."

John can feel his back teeth grinding together, but he doesn't actually want to say anything in front of the demon they need to talk. Besides, Seth had been the one trying to talk to Hilton when the man was an arachne. John keeps his gun trained on Wilson's head but keeps his eyes on Seth.

Seth's expression doesn't change as he lifts his flask and pours a stream of holy water onto the arm that's already been eviscerated by Seth's knife. The skin hisses and steams as Wilson lets out a scream that's almost human.

"Meg," it gasps when Seth stops. "She goes by Meg."

Seth recaps the flask with a blank face then glances over at John as if he's checking in. John can't bring himself to lower his gun so it stays up, pointed at the middle of Wilson's forehead. A sudden noise makes John's attention snap to the salt circle. The demon pushes himself to his feet and dives face-first toward the ring of salt. John can see the grains shift as if a breeze is blowing inside the building.

"Sorry, boys." The demon grins with bloody dripping over its mouth and down its chin. "Did you really think I was going to leave such a good meat suit?"

John wonders if his brain has repeated the devil's trap on the building enough to draw it without digging for the journal. Seth, though, doesn't move.

"No, I really didn't."

Seth launches into Latin, starting with _Exorcizamus te_. The demon's eyes turn black without blinking as its face twists into angry pain.

"I'm going to eat you from the inside out," it hisses.

John wonders if a bullet will slow the thing down. Seth doesn't even pause for breath, and the demon twists in pain again. It thrusts a hand toward the edge of the salt circle again. John takes a step back and fires a shot at the body's feet. It should at least register the pain of the dumb guy it's possessing. The bullet hits the man's ankle just as Seth's arm shoots out against the demon.

"No!"

Seth's arm crosses the salt line, and he shoves at the demon's shoulder. Like that's the best option. The demon claws at Seth's forearm and drags its nails across the skin. Suddenly, the demon snaps back and lets out a scream, flailing against an invisible wall of air where the salt ring circles it. John turns his head, but Seth draws his arm back before John can glimpse more than four scratches across reddened skin. Seth starts spitting out the rest of his Latin as the demon recovers its footing.

"He'll kill you," the demon screams. "You Winchesters aren't half as tough as you think you are. He's going to roast your souls over the Pit."

The voice turns higher and higher until the demon throws its head back and lets smoke pour from its mouth. The smoke rises in the air but stays in a line, like a undulating snake, then dives for the floor and passes through concrete toward the earth. Wilson's body slumps to the ground and stays in the salt circle, unmoving. He's just unconscious, and they'll need to call an ambulance for him and the girl in the corner. Eventually.

John lowers the hammer on his gun and turns to Seth hesitantly.

"You okay?" he says.

"Awesome." Seth has one hand clamped on his injured arm, which is still redder than it should be for a few scratches. "You?"

"Awesome," John says blandly.

"Awesome."

**o0O0o**

John peels himself out of Seth's car when they reach home again. The downstairs lights are off, but John can see the upstairs bedroom lights peeking through the blinds. He trudges up to the front door and walks in.

"Dad!" Sammy practically slides down the stairs into the living room, already dressed in pajamas.

Dean follows his brother and nearly plows over Sammy when the kid stops short of running right into John's arms. John isn't disappointed.

He isn't.

Dean nods at the man at John's back.

"Seth."

"Are you okay?" Sammy demands before Seth can answer. Or maybe John just doesn't see Seth's answer.

"I'm fine," he says. "Seth needs a look."

"I'm fine, too," Seth says quickly.

When John turns, Seth has shifted his shoulder back like he's trying to hide an injury. Dean rolls his eyes almost as hard as Sammy can.

"Don't be a baby, man." Dean steps forward to take over.

Seth just stares wide-eyed at the teenager and lets Dean pull out his arm from behind his back and push up the jacket sleeve.

"What happened?" Dean says, staring at the raised lines on Seth's arm.

Now that John has a good view, with house light instead of dim florescent, he can see a white scar against the red skin. It's in two little crescents on the inside of Seth's forearm, almost like a bite mark. But John doesn't recognize it immediately from any animals. It could be another protection symbol, he supposes, but it looks too crude.

"What happened there?" John nods at the arm. "The demon hurt more than you from that. It wasn't just the exorcism."

Seth stares at John for a moment before his eyes flicker to Sam and then Dean, who are both paying far too much attention to Seth's arm. John should have waited to ask, maybe.

"It was a hunt that went bad," Seth says finally. "It's like radiation poisoning."

"You were poisoned?" Sammy's eyes go wide, aghast.

Seth shrugs while Dean focuses on rubbing his thumb across the scratches.

"Something like that," says Seth. "No real cure, so I just live with it."

"But you're okay now?" Sam presses, his eyebrows rising to say _your answer had better be yes._

Seth blinks at Sam and then lets his mouth twitch up, trying to smile.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he says.

The room breathes a bit more, tension escaping the air around the four of them.

"We got first aid in the bathroom," Dean says.

"No, come upstairs," Sam says immediately. "I got something to show you."

Seth looks a little lost between the two boys, and John puts his foot down.

"You boys need to get in bed."

Dean frowns at John, probably for being included in Sammy's bedtime, but it's too late for either of them to be up, really. But Seth claps Dean on one shoulder with his good hand, and Dean nods slowly. Sam stays where he is, glaring at a pount at John's elbow.

"We're fine, Sam." John nods toward the stairs again. "Get to bed."

"Can Seth come up with me?" Sam almost pouts.

John wants to refuse. Sam hasn't needed anyone to tuck him in for the past year. Unless Dean is doing a nighttime routine John doesn't know about.

"I got some ointment in my room," Dean offers.

John side-eyes his oldest, knowing a compromise when he hears one. But he shrugs and lets Sam pulls at Seth's hand and lead him to the stairs. Dean follows them, and John retreats to the kitchen, flipping on the light as he goes.

John slumps into a chair by the kitchen table and scrubs his hands through his hair. He feels tired, and he can't even argue that it had been a hard hunt. In terms of physical activity, all he did was hold a gun to a man's head. He shouldn't be this tired.

Heavy shoes stomp across the floor as Seth walks down from upstairs and sits down at the table as well. He looks just as tired as John.

"The boys okay?" John asks.

Seth's eyebrows go up until his forehead is made of wrinkles. With his hair hanging almost in his eyes, Seth looks like a hound dog.

"Yeah," Seth says, like he's surprised John asked.

John wishes he had some hard whiskey in the house. Seth looks like needs one, and John definitely has more than one glass in the house.

"The demon said he was working for Meg," he says.

He can't think of any significance to the name, even though he had no trouble recognizing the others Seth mentioned. Can demons even _have_ regular names like Margaret? John waits, but Seth only stares at the table, focusing on his hands. The inside of his arm is shiny with ointment.

"Did you recognize the name?" John presses. Seth keeps his head down. "Seth."

"She's not a Knight." Seth keeps his eyes down, and his voice is gruff. "I don't think— No. But, she's . . . working for one, maybe."

Seth scrubs his palms over his face with a familiar motion. John really wishes he had some whiskey.

"I don't know how much has changed."

"Changed?" John repeats. "You mean you're working with info that's out of date?"

As a hunter, Seth should know how dangerous that is. John frowns at the younger man, although he can tell almost immediately that he's pulling the _Dad_ face he uses on sons who don't get their homework done. By now, he's been a father longer than he's been a soldier.

Seth pulls up his shoulders like he fears for his neck.

"Yeah." He shies away from John just enough to pull his body to one side. "I need to do some research."

John might grant him that, although he doesn't know what kind of research includes finding the names of the Knights of Hell.

"The boys have a few more weeks of school left, right?" Seth's head jerks up suddenly.

John blinks at suddenly meeting Seth's wide eyes again.

"Yeah, but—"

"Are you staying around after that?"

"Not here." John grimaces. They'll stay to close out the school year, but the police know him as a fake agent now.

"I need to check some things." Seth nods thoughtfully and then flaps one hand in a vague westerly direction. "Back at the Bunker."

Which makes no sense.

"What if I met you in three weeks to go over what I find?"

It's not a bad idea.

"Sure. What about Singer's?" John offers.

Seth doesn't react like John's making a concession. His back goes straight so Seth is leaning away from the table, and he tilts his head to give John a sideways look.

"Bobby Singer's?" John prompts. Not like he knows any others. "You know his place."

Seth _has_ to know Bobby's place because Bobby knew him before John did. Maybe Bobby hasn't met Seth in person yet, but Seth can't be nervous about that. No man called Bobby can be that intimidating to a stranger. A suspicion sinks into John's gut and stays there despite his efforts to shake his head back into place. Finally, he just spits it out.

"And the boys know him."

Seth's shoulders sink back down as if that was what he was waiting on. He nods with his eyes more on the table than on John.

"Yeah. Okay," he breathes.

He looks more tired now than when he sat down at the table. John almost doesn't want the man driving.

"You're not leaving tonight," he says.

"I was thinking tomorrow." Seth shrugs.

"You have to check Sam's symbols to make sure he's doing it right." John hasn't even asked the consequences of writing these things wrong.

Seth laughs but doesn't smile. His forehead tightens, and the corners of his mouth pull down.

"Sam already drew the thing four times on walls in his room and Dean's," he says, slumping in the chair. "I gave him one symbol, and he already has it perfected."

"He's a smart kid." John wants to sit a little straighter just saying it.

Seth either doesn't believe him or doesn't care, which is weird because Seth has focused hard on Sammy — on both John's sons actually — since he got here.

"I didn't think he'd take to it this young," Seth mutters.

John eyes Seth without turning. He can't think of a hunter who doesn't have issues, and for a moment he remembers Sam's face years ago when he still didn't know why his dad had to leave at night.

"How old were you?" he asks.

Seth's mouth twists into something between a sneer and a pout that wrinkles his nose.

"About his age." He doesn't even question what John's talking about.

John thinks of days wondering why he doesn't have a dad like other kids. He thinks of the night Sammy fell asleep curled into John's wounded side. Then he stops thinking.

"Show me that tattoo again."

He's going to learn as much as he can to protect his family. And that means he's going to squeeze as much info from Seth as he can before the man leaves in the morning.

* * *

A/N: I apologize for the lateness of this chapter, especially with it being the last one of this episode. I'm gonna say the Thanksgiving holiday threw me off. I was very lazy for about four days before I had to go back to work.

Be sure to check my profile for updates on the series!

Fia


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